


a roadside crucifixture

by Caracalliope



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Crucifixion, Deal with a Devil, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 22:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caracalliope/pseuds/Caracalliope
Summary: Your Highness,The custodian of the afterlife offered somewhat better terms than the crystal did, so I accepted. I hope you will forgive me for acting without authorization.Don’t pull over until you’re out of this place. Keep your eyes on the road.Yours,Ignis.





	a roadside crucifixture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egelantier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/egelantier/gifts).



_Your Highness,_

_The custodian of the afterlife offered somewhat better terms than the crystal did, so I accepted. I hope you will forgive me for acting without authorization._

_Don’t pull over until you’re out of this place. Keep your eyes on the road._

_Yours,  
Ignis._

* * *

Noct isn’t exactly dead, and he isn’t exactly tired. There’s a persistent sting in his eyes, and an ache enveloping him from the chest down. Down here (up here?), he doesn’t need to sleep.

He’s been driving for at least twenty-seven days. The Regalia has a watch, but he didn’t think about keeping track at first. Like an idiot, he’d assumed there would be sunrises and sunsets to anchor him. But apparently, the underworld is stuck in the same monotonous ditch as the living world. It’s just that everything’s bright here instead of dark.

He passes by Ignis 2.4 times a day. He’s not great at math, or anything, but he had time to figure that out. Sometimes there’s crows and sometimes there’s not. Ignis always looks pretty much intact.

How is time passing for Specs? Has he been up there for twenty-seven days too? Is he awake? Noct thinks he’s seen his head move around. Probably wishful thinking! Ignis’s arms are spread, raised, like he’s enacting some dance routine. His legs are secured in place with something that glitters in the not-sun.

When he gets free and gets Ignis free, he’s going to find a way to dissolve this place into true nothingness. For now, Noct has got to drive.

* * *

Noct drove by him sixty-four times so far. In the beginning, Ignis feared that Noct would pull over and void the deal. But it seems that his king has finally grown up and learned to focus on what matters.

Ignis is almost ready to relax now, but it’s better to keep his posture correct until Noct gets to see him. Chin raised, back taut, avoiding a slump. His arms are merely tied to the dark metal frame. Maybe he’ll be able to use them, if he gets down. His legs are tied too, but there is a sharp, constant pain through his ankles and shins. Ignis would prefer not to think about it.

He cannot die for now, it was in his terms. Maybe he will be able to after Noct completes his end of the bargain. Is it possible to escape this place into the void? He hasn’t really been able to put together the big picture yet.

Noct’s windows are tinted, so Ignis never gets to see him. It would be nice to see him one more time.

He’s speeding more than usual today. It isn’t like the speed has any influence on how long he will be forced to keep on driving. The road from hell is infinite, and all that. Ignis supposes that varying the speed helps with the monotony of driving.

For a ridiculous moment, he wishes Gladio was there with Noct, to take over the wheel and let Noct take a nap.

Then, even more shamefully, he wishes Gladio was here with him, to hold him up just for a minute. Let him rest his stretched-out elbows, his stinging spine. Ease the sharpness in his shins for a moment.

But when the Regalia passes, so do the fanciful thoughts. Ignis slumps and almost screams. There are no birds now, but he can let himself sink downward and inward. The magic of this place will repair him in time for Noct’s reappearance.

* * *

Noct can’t stop thinking about Prompto. The thing is, Gladio would probably do the same thing Noct’s doing. He’d hate it. He’d yell and he’d break shit. But Noct getting back is like, super important. For the crops. And the people. Right.

But what would Prompto do? He usually follows Noct’s lead. Maybe, maybe he’d be willing to obey Noct - and Ignis’ fucking note. But he would keep asking questions, Noct thinks. Why does this need to happen? Who is getting off on this, exactly? Is Iggy okay? Is he? Is he okay?

Noct’s not sure he could take it. He thinks he’d stop the car, and let Prompto rush ahead because Prompto would be willing to take the first wave of Specs’ disappointment. Also, whatever, Noct’s seen Prompto cradle an alleycat’s kittens before. He’d know how to be gentle, how to take him off and wipe his face and the blood and -

Noct speeds up.

* * *

Counting is unnecessary, so Ignis puts it aside. He also isn’t sure that time is passing the way that it used to, but that might not be his fault. Nothing here works exactly as it should.

For example, it is unclear to Ignis why Noct’s endurance trial took this particular form. Ignis is pleased that it did. He would never have agreed to put Noct here, for any length of time, even though that was the original offer.

He is truly, honestly thrilled. It’s just that torturing a servant seems like an unusual way to tempt a young king.

Almost as if to punish him, Noct slows down as he passes. Ignis hasn’t felt nauseous in a long time, but now it rises up his throat.

If he could wave, he would do that. Instead he shakes his head, with all the intensity left in him. _Please keep driving, please don’t waste this_. It’s a good deal, it is. Noct would be an idiot to throw it away now.

Noct doesn’t stop. Ignis sighs in relief, deeply enough that his body fills with all the pain he has been drifting away from. The hunger and thirst return too.

“Could I bother you for a lemonade?” he asks the new crow that lands on his shoulder.

It caws and Ignis rolls his eyes at his own frivolity. Still worth it. Everything is worth it.

* * *

The finish line is marked with black and white stripes. Someone up here (down here) has a rotten sense of humor. Noct doesn’t turn his engine off when he crosses. Maybe there’s a loophole.

He’s been driving for one hundred and two days. He’s not going to fuck it up now.

The place around him ripples and the bright sky dims a little. A sunset? Looks like he’s getting a sunset.

He’s got Ignis’s note crumpled in his hand when he leaves the car at last. He breaks into a run. Just forward, endless, until he finds him.

But this time, Ignis is right there. It takes no time at all to jog up to him.

He looks, and smells, like a corpse. His hair’s never been this dry, hah, Noct is going to buy him so much conditioner. His legs are run through with metal. The tips of his fingers are blue.

Noct leans over, around a head shorter when Ignis is hanged up like this. He observes his chest, catches light little breaths, like a small animal's.

How the fuck is he supposed to do this?

When Noct touches Ignis, the metal frame starts moving. It folds back, slow and careful, until Ignis is lying with his back on the ground. Is this place automated? Noct saw a wound or two on that back of his. He’s not sure where those came from.

When life comes back to them, he is going to draw Specs a bath and fill it with healing flowers from Tenebrae. They’re probably not in season? The world is swallowed in darkness still? Noct doesn’t care, he’s just beaten death, or whatever. He can get flowers for his best friend.

“Ignis? Dude.”

At least he’s still breathing. He’s cold, and the sky around them is dimming. Noct has this feeling that when it goes dark, they’ll be back to where they’re supposed to be.

He can’t hold Ignis’s hand, and he’s not sure he can take those nails out of his feet. But he can touch that dry hair, and mutter like an idiot, and wait for the last of this world to dissolve around them.

* * *

Ignis should have negotiated the terms better. If he’s back now, if his body a useless husk? He tries moving his arms. His shoulders scream in agony, but somehow, they’re not even dislocated. Is it merely the tantrum of nerves that went ignored for too long?

He smells decay. Is that a sense memory too?

Something hurts his side, in a heavy and sticky kind of way. He reaches down, forcing himself through the pain. His hand finds silky hair and he realizes that Noct fell asleep on his him. Heh. Well. It was a long drive.

“Hey!” He didn’t mean to wake Noct up, but his touch was enough to do it. He watches Noct sit up, bleary, and then watches him slump under the weight of recent memories.

“Hey,” Noct says again, softly like he’s talking to a dying man. Spitefully, Ignis tries to bend his legs, but all that gets him is a hiss of pain. Fine. He’ll just stay still a while longer.

“Hey,” Noct says, for the third time, and Ignis gets ready for the reproach he deserves. Maybe Noct won’t notice how useless he is right now if he gets indignant at him.

“Thanks, bro,” Noct says, and that Ignis wasn’t expecting. The kiss on his brow is unexpected too. “Did you know that driving gets the mind going? I’ve kind of realized a thing or two.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. We need to light this world up,” Noct says, and finishes sending a text to someone. “And then we’re burning that other one down.”

Before Ignis can respond, Noct curls up beside him, caring but implacable. Ignis touches his hair again, and lets himself pay attention to the texture under his fingertips. They can wait together now.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, dearest! ♥


End file.
